


Not Swept Away, But Stolen

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, And Driver Roll Up The Partition, Bad Attempts at Humour, Car Sex, Coming Out, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gratuitous References to Beyonce, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, References to Illness, SO MUCH FLUFF I AM SORRY, Smut, Some Scenes Inspired By Cara and Michelle's Adventures, idk just read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:02:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1959423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Louis gets hurt. Harry can hardly bear it. And they both discover somethings are worth more than others.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Swept Away, But Stolen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashavahishta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashavahishta/gifts).



> Thanks to Jess for betaing. 
> 
> Title from Adele's Skyfall, a little modified.

Harry's curls are exceptionally unruly today, the wind sweeping them every which way, painting his cheeks a ruddy pink colour and drying his lips in unbecoming ways.

 

He rubs his fingers across his lips and picks at a stray bit of skin there, pulling at it punishingly, his eyes gazing up.

The sky is a looming, despondent gray and the atmosphere is heavy with moisture, the anticipation of rain hanging in the air, clogging his nostrils with that peculiar smell that accompanies first showers.

 

The stage is a veritable trap today, lots of platforms that seem to merge together in various shades of black. It’s their first show here, in this new  
country and he longs for home, for the warm colours of their house and reliable morning teas brewed by Louis, so much it seems to weigh on his bones.

Harry doesn't often get like this, doesn't often drop the charming mask of smiles and dimples. He is the frontman for a reason, but something just feels off today. The humidity is getting under his skin and making it seemingly stretch tight over his flesh.

Ah, here comes the first drops of rain. He peers from backstage to see the main stage go slick with moisture, shining, slippery and black.

 

The capacity is full, as is wont with their concerts.

Normally, it never fails to cheer Harry, seeing the enormous crowd of people who sing along with them, who claim to love them and have spent hours, money and tears on them.

 

Though, today the crowd feels like what it is -- a gathering of strangers who've come to gawk at them, to point their countless cameras at him and his boys, to catch each movement carried out, each word spoken, each glance exchanged between him and Louis. Especially him and Louis.

Harry clutches the ends of the checked shirt he is wearing and glances over at Louis. Louis is draped over a sofa, trying to stealthily steal Liam’s snapback.

Harry watches as the bones of his ankles shift beneath his skin as Liam lunges at Louis.

His eyes almost disappear with how hard he is laughing, his mouth all soft and pink as he flaps his hands up at Liam who is mercilessly tickling him in revenge.

Harry watches because there isn’t much else he could do in public, even now, backstage while they’re having the times of their lives. He can’t just pull Louis to his side and stroke his fingers on Louis’ skin.

 

It used to unsettle Harry, during the early days when the urge just to touch was so strong that his hands would shake and his tongue would tremble in his mouth.

 

Harry’s used to it now. He’s used to refrain, restrain and relax. The three R’s. It’s easier for Louis. Or harder.

On one hand, Louis' acting experience has helped, but sometimes it made him cranky. He would come to Harry and whisper how hard it was, "I can’t do half and half, Harry. I love you, and I am afraid if I even look at you it'll show. It’s seeping from each and every pore of mine, I love you so much, Haz. They'll see. They'll take you away from me."

And so Louis ignores him in public, doesn't look at him if he could avoid it, doesn't talk to him if he could help it. And like, Harry gets it. It isn't anyone's fault. It is their own choice and they've made it, for this -- a stadium full of strangers and empty, cold arms.

It's maybe a half an hour or more left to their show, the stadium is full, only a few last moment stragglers are coming in.

It is raining now, grey seems to be the colour of the atmosphere today. Harry never did like grey, it seemed too lonely and woebegone for his taste. Louis looks good in grey though, wearing a grey t-shirt that pulls tight across his chest and tight, black jeans that cling to his body like a second skin. Harry is ninety-percent sure they're his own. Louis had a tendency to wear Harry’s clothes. He says he feels safe in them and they smell of home, of Harry.

The various parts of their entourage, make-up artists and stage managers and PR people are running around in a mad frenzy that is yet another show to One Direction's name. Lou is running around, doing god knows what. Caroline is trying to convince Liam that, "No, Liam. Cravats don’t go well with vests, darling, trust me. Why don’t we find you another bandanna, huh?"

Zayn is sitting on a beanbag in a corner, enormous headphones over his ears, as he bobs his head to whatever tune is currently playing on a loop. Zayn's like that, he plays things on a loop, says they calm him because they’re predictable.

Harry digs his hand in his jeans pocket and feels around for the ring he always carries with him, but never wears in public. One day. The cool metal is smooth beneath his fingers, calming him a little.

Harry makes his way to the bathroom located in the back, far away from all the hullabaloo that singes his nerves today. The bathroom is grey too, damn colour seem to be stalking him today. He goes to a sink and wets his hand before he splashes water on his face.

The subtle make-up doesn't wash off, water-proof as Lou has always ensured ever since he first cried his eyes out during the UAN tour. God, that seems like a lifetime ago now.

His reflection stares back at him, his eyes a curious shade of tired, eyelids drooping with the urge to just get away from here.

Homesick. He is so homesick.

Harry's laugh is a bleak, hoarse sound and he immediately yelps as a pair of hands come around his waist. They slide to rest on his hips before harshly pinching the skin there and the caressing it. Someone's hair tickles his ear as that someone leans over Harry's shoulder to bite his earlobe and whisper, "Hi."

 

Harry grins, "Oops."

Louis. It's Louis. Of course, it's Louis. Harry feels lighter, the corners of his mouth less heavier as he turns around to gaze down at Louis.

Harry smooths a hand across Louis' back, the other one tilting his chin up so their lips are a hairs breadth apart. Louis is warm beside him, he's always so warm and full of energy.

Harry peers at those blue eyes, "Missed me?"

Louis lets out a full body sigh and buries his face in Harry’s neck, "I always miss you, curly. You know that."

They stay silent for a moment before Louis raises his head and pins Harry with a look.

 

Harry pretends he doesn't understand what Louis is clearly asking with his eyes.

Louis sighs again, this time exasperated and licks over Harry's exposed collarbone where his top is unbuttoned to form a tantalizing V over his torso. Harry shivers and his lips tingle with the urge to kiss Louis.

Louis drags his lips from Harry’s collarbones to his ear, "Tell me what's wrong, Harry. Please."

Harry's hands come up to grip the sinks and his head automatically tilts back for Louis, neck forming a pale, long line in the fluorescent overhead lighting. He gasps and bunches the cloth over Louis' back in his hand as he pushes his hips forward in an unconscious move seeking Louis. Always seeking Louis.

 

"Just feeling a little down is all. Missing home, you know," Harry mumbles, just as Louis' hands go in his curls to pull them tightly and tugs them in a way that nevers fails to draw moans from Harry.

 

The heat in his groin is overwhelming now. Louis always turns him into a moaning, slithering, grasping maniac, with just one touch. With Louis, he always wants more and more and more; so much that he could fill fucking oceans with how much he loves this boy.

Louis' hands roam all over his body, pinching nipples and grasping his bum, possessive and comforting, in a way only Louis could be.

 

"Let me take care of you, Haz. Let me make you feel better," Louis says, fingers on Harry's belt as he quickly unbuckles it before shoving his jeans down to his knees in one smooth motion. Louis is something of an expert in getting Harry naked. Harry had read somewhere that if you spend three and a half years doing something daily, you automatically became an expert in it.

 

Harry giggles, imaging Louis as a scholarly expert, writing books on proper procedure to get Harry Styles naked, going to conferences on it.

Louis pauses in an effort to get his own jeans off and grins at Harry, "Share the joke?"

Harry shakes his head and replaces Louis' hands with his own to tug black jeans down tanned, brown thighs before he tugs down Louis' pants, revealing his cock curving towards his stomach. It is something he has seen hundreds of times, thick and pink now, tip turning red with blood and want.

 

Harry wants to suck on it, lick it from the base to the top and swallow it up. He loves sucking Louis' cock and Louis knows it.

 

Louis is biting his own bottom lip, dark blue eyes intent on Harry as his hands dip into Harry's black boxers to pull out his cock. Harry could feel Louis' nails drag lightly on the skin of his quickly hardening cock and feels the firm grip he has on it.

Louis looks utterly beautiful like this, his cheeks flushed and hair disarrayed from Harry's hands. Harry moves his thumb to Louis’ lips as he slowly drags his red, flushed bottom lip from beneath his teeth. He pulls Louis into himself, chest to chest, and flicks out his tongue to lick over his bottom lip, getting a taste of Louis, heady and addictive.

His brain is a constant stream of LouisLouisLouis as he finally merges his mouth to Louis. The kiss is full of tongue and teeth, both of them scrabbling to get nearer, bodies fitting together, compact and complementary.

Louis' hands move to take them both together, moving slickly over their penises. Harry breaks the kiss to catch his breath and glances down at Louis' small hands around both of their pricks.

 

The contrast between Louis' small, tan hands and what they were holding was enough to make Harry's eyes roll back in his head a little.

Louis begins to increase the pace and his pants on Harry's neck become frantic. Harry's overcome with Louis, the light sheen of sweat on his upper lip and the way his lips curl as he eggs Harry on with, "Come on, Harry. Let go. Show me how much you want me. Make me wet, darling."

Harry groans, drawn out and low, as he comes all over Louis' hands, splattering his skin with wads of thick, wet ropes.

 

He sinks his head in Louis' neck, biting it in a ferocious manner and leaving an angry red mark behind. Louis arches his body in a positively sultry curve as he comes all over Harry’s thigh with a raspy, drawn out whisper of, "Harry, Hazza, my boy."

Post-coital Louis is soft. There was no other word for it. He goes pliant and cuddly in Harry's hands. Harry pulled a tissue out of the dispenser and wipes up their come. He throws the wad in a bin and tucks them both inside. He pats Louis' cheek and bends down to give him a short kiss. Louis gives him a sweet smile in return, reaching up a hand to trace Harry's nose and gently bops it.

Harry laughs, finally feeling a bit lighter and happier, more ready to take on the world.

Together. He glances over at Louis, "Showtime, Lou. Let’s go," tangling their fingers together and smoothing Louis' t-shirt.

 

Louis' voice is raspy and spent out, "The things I do for you, Haz. Let’s go, yeah."

They obviously can't walk back together, even though most of their crew knows that there is something to know or actually do know, the closet is very real and it won't do to forgot that in an age where a picture could go viral after a second of it being snapped.

 

So Louis goes ahead, sauntering and wriggling his hips comically, because he knows Harry is watching.

Harry can't stop the smile that overtakes his face, as he leans in the lavatory doorframe, hands resting on the side of the walls, watching him walk away, Louis' slightly untucked t-shirt the only sign of their activities in the toilet.

It seems as if Louis has been making him smile since the moment they'd met, that one too in a toilet just like this. Harry could never forget that day, the ridiculous and life-changing moment when they met, both with their dicks out, Louis having just being splashed with Harry's wee but smiling in response and spouting off a lot of support to calm Harry's obvious nerves.

 

Harry had been overwhelmed then, by the blue eyes, fragile wrists and a high voice that seemed to be asking him for a photograph. Him!! Louis had a rare shy smile then, and Harry still remembers how the sudden shyness in this new boy he'd met had made him want to reach out, to touch skin and soothe, maybe with his lips. He hasn't stopped wanting since then.

 

It was honestly the same smile that rendered all of Harry's defenses useless; not that he had any to begin with. Not with Louis.

He goes to follow Louis out, having waited the required few minutes and knowing that he will be needed for a million last minute things.

 

The calm that has settled in the pit of Harry's stomach in Louis' presence seem to slowly dissipate a little, oozing out of his skin like steam oozing out of a hot dunked biscuit. Harry really feels like that would be a good approximation of how he currently feels, cold dunked biscuit Styles.

 

It is maybe a ten minutes left to the start of the show, and as he enters back in the fray, he catches Niall's eye as the latter boy waves a banana at him, grinning cheekily.

"Gotta keep your energy up, right, Hazza?" he cackles, waggling his eyebrows. He'd obviously noticed his and Louis' little detour into the loo. Niall is far more observant than you'd think. All that fish and just sheer food he consumes has to affect him somehow right?

Harry grabs the banana, and peeling it, takes a big mouthful, mumbles, "Thanks, Ni. You never disappoint when it comes to food."

There is still a sheen of sweat on his skin, and he could almost feel the phantom touch of Louis' hands digging in, holding him tight.

He glances around, and spots Louis, where he has wandered off too and is now sitting next to Zayn, sharing the pair of headphones with him.

Louis has a little frown of concentration now, listening intently to whatever music is blasting in his head. Almost as if feeling Harry's eyes on himself, Louis looks up and catches his gaze. He blinks and then his lips quirk in a tiny, private smile, eyes crinkling as he gazes right back. He looks so cute, Harry wants to bop his nose and kiss his face, but makes do by just exaggeratedly blowing a kiss toward him, lips pursing in a pink pout.

Louis gasps in mock outrage, and then pretends to catch the kiss with his fist. He presses it to his heart, eyes still crinkling up at Harry from across the room and Harry is hopelessly endeared.

He mouths, "You soppy bastard," at Louis, causing the latter to flail around as if in pain, hand accidentally thwacking Zayn in the face in the process.

Zayn rolls his eyes at them, even as his lips quirk into a fond smile, and Harry grins back at them, happy for the moment, thinking that how incredible it is that he gets to do this with them, his favourite boys. The show's on

The stage looks vast and feels unfamiliar as Harry steps on it, the crowd roaring uproariously in welcome. It is a stadium tour and as such, the boys are spread out, one of them commanding one area of the massive stage.

 

The blocking is strict and restrictive, with how it limits their movement and interactions to some extent, he and Louis are not supposed to interact at all though, not even look at each other.

 

Harry can't think about that or his veins will start burning with justified anger and no one needs that now, especially not their fans.

The rain is drizzling down, raindrops glittering in the stage lights like wet lightning, and the crowd is restless and surging, vying for better places to stand near the stage, as the show starts up.

Harry tries valiantly to lose himself in the music, in the pure adrenaline of performing, but today his brain keeps catching on moments and dwelling on them, getting lost in the convoluted trains of thought they provoke.

The blond hair of a little girl in the crowd, frizzled like candy floss. The ropes and framework of the stage and a rainbow bear tied to them, looking quite bedraggled and wet, the poor thing and wearing what seems to be bondage gear. His sight get caught on the curve of Louis' back as he bends down to sing at the crowd, face scrunched up in concentration, veins standing out in his neck with the strain of singing.

It's noisy, it's fun and Harry can't help feeling like he just wants to go back to his bunk, twine his limbs with Louis, put a record on and sleep for a million years.

They have a new stage gimmick this year, an improvement of the old rising platform one of the last tour's. The platform is now to be leveled over the crowd, moving above them.

It's time for that now, and the surface of the platform is a sleek shiny black, wide and broad enough that they don't need harnesses.

They have strict instructions every show to stay in the middle of the platform, or Paul will attach so much harnessing paraphernalia to their bodies that Iron Man would be naked in comparison. Paul had shaken his head and glared at them, Louis in particular, and delivered a scathing lecture at the beginning of the tour.

 

Louis had reciprocated with dyeing the entire security teams washing a gaudy orange colour.

Harry rolls his eyes as he remembers the bollocking Louis had gotten after by Paul, and then how, subdued, Louis had treated the entire security team to chocolate cake to make up for it, with the words 'You orange glad I did that and I am sorry' in icing.

The chains holding up the platform gleam white as they get on it, one by one.

 

Louis and Liam come up last, arms around each others shoulders and laughing mischievously at something. Louis ducks down his head to giggle at something, cheeks pink and smushed with so much mirth, t-shirt clinging to his skin in wet patches here and here, making his body look leaner and curvier than ever.

Harry swallows a little and looks away, throat bobbing as he tilts his head to survey the crowd as they look from this height.

They are rising at a slow steady pace, and the audience is going absolutely wild with glee.

 

The music starts, the intro to Rock Me commencing. Harry's headband is soaked in sweat, curls a little limp and clinging to the back his neck damply. The cobalt sky looks a lot nearer now, clouds, wind and rain buffeting the atmosphere.

 

It's kind of exhilarating, feeling the wind caress his skin harshly, suiting the kind of mood he is in today, rain a little too cold in a way that makes you feel wide awake, makes you feel more keenly and your skin prickle in an undeniably primal way.

The air seems to almost vibrate with the shrieks of the fans, as Harry belts out Rock Me, his own voice blending together with the other boys with practiced ease. There seems to be a sea of posters and lenses of camera pointed at them, and it feels like how a bug at the end of a microscope might feel.

 

Everything is overly magnified and scrutinized, Harry thinks, from each step to each look to the booming of each shrieked out lyric.

 

The platform shakes a little as it comes to a halt, and then changes directions, heading back to the stage again.

Zayn grips Harry's forearm tight in response, looking a little spooked at the vague tilting, but continues to sing in the chorus gamely. Zayn likes to joke about how being in One Direction forced him to do stuff that he would never do in an ordinary life, like put up with Niall's smelly farts and Louis' manic pranks. But Harry had felt the pulse of truth beneath his words then, and he feels it again now, as his eyes map out the distance between him and Louis, each at one end of the platform.

It is ridiculous, this careful pretend facade of Harry and Louis not interacting. It isn't like they are going to start snogging on stage. Which is a pity, truth be told.

 

He would quite like to kiss Louis while singing Strong, actually he would quite like to kiss Louis always, surroundings and circumstances be damned.

The platform is now just a few feet above the stage, and as they end the second song, the descent becomes faster, the stage coming closer and closer.

Harry has no idea how it happens but he senses it, something prickling under his skin the entire day, and when questioned in the future about it, he'd always reply with, "The crowd got really loud. Unnaturally loud. That's how I knew something was off."

So as it turns out, the instant Louis Tomlinson slips and falls off the platform, landing on the ground on his back and not moving at all after that, Harry Styles attention is ensnared by the fireworks on the other side of the stage, but the noise quickly alerts him that something has gone very, very wrong.

It is chaos and screams and rain diluting the red of the pooling blood around Louis' skull, the sight of it making something ugly twist in Harry's stomach; it is Zayn almost jumping off the same platform after Louis until Liam's arms come to bracket his chest, both of their faces wet with awful, spontaneous tears; it is Niall dropping his mic, knees trembling and then giving out as he drops down to them abruptly, peering in shock at the sight below, eyes too wide and lip trembling.

It is Harry screaming, microphone still frozen in his hands and therefore catching every cadence of it, an indescribable wail of agony that everyone in the vicinity hears and remembers long after that.

Remember with goosebumps ridging their skin as they recall how Harry Styles shrieked that night. That awful sound of someone in unbearable pain, much like an animal makes when it is caught in a trap.

It is Harry finally snapping out of it and actually jumping off the still descending platform, now significantly lower than previously, before anyone could reach him.

It is him tripping and going down, as he lands on the ground and, unable to stand, starts crawling towards Louis.

The world seems to have frozen for a moment, like someone has paused it and Harry isn't sure if he has a heart except it is beating so, so painfully in his chest.

He crawls to Louis on all fours, the entire world looking on.

Louis, who is still unmoving, the circle of blood around him is bigger now, and Harry can't feel his fingertips, his lungs can't get enough of oxygen and he is fairly certain he broke something in his ankles and... and his boy is lying there unmoving and his fucking body won't move fucking fast enough.

Harry's face is dry though, eyes wide and unblinking, fixed on Louis as he continues to make his way towards the prone body of his boy.

There is a team of medics clambering up the stage now, reaching Louis and obscuring him from view, Harry is almost there, his hands are now wet with rain, as he is finally near enough to touch Louis. The medics are checking Louis' essentials, frantic and practiced both at the same time, and that makes Harry relieved but also angry, he wants to snatch Louis away from these foreign hands, scream 'Mine mine' at the universe or whoever it is that did this, and he also want Louis to open his eyes right this instant and call him 'Hazza' and kiss him on the heart.

Harry knows he is being irrational and his hands are trembling with how much he wants to touch, and he finally does, the feel of it is wet.

There's blood on Harry's hand, Louis' blood, and there is a wound on Louis' head and his leg is twisted at an angle that legs shouldn't be twisted at.

Harry wants to throw up, right there on the stage, his hands stained with Louis' blood but he doesn't

The wetness he'd earlier felt is Louis' blood, and as he touches Louis' face with trembling hands and shaking fingers, Louis' cheek gets smeared crimson from his own blood on Harry's hands.

It is an out of body experience, feels so much like the pulls and jerks of a nightmare except it never hurt this much in them, his subconscious is kinder than reality apparently.

The boys are here now, he can feel their weight behind him, the warm sense of brothers, he can hear Niall's hiccuping sobs, he can feel Zayn's hand tight on his hip, can feel Liam's hand fisting in his shirt from behind, and it feels as if they know how much it hurts, how it feels like he's dropping, descending into some darker universe where Louis Tomlinson gets hurt.

They are transferring Louis onto a stretcher now, and the warmth of him is gone from behind Harry's fingers, only red blood slicking the black stage left behind.

He hears shouts of the paramedics, entreaties of, "Be careful, Mike, I think he has a broken leg." And the crowd is still screaming, Harry is sure, but nothing is registering at the moment, the echo of 'broken leg' reverberating in his mind.

Louis had told him once when they were lying together in the X-factor bunks, long back, that when he had been made captain of the sixth form football team, he has managed to break his knee at the first practice itself. His right knee had been turned in the other direction due to a vicious tackle from his own team mate.

"It had hurt so much, Hazza. I was crying like a baby. It was proper embarrassing afterwards," he'd said. Harry had been horrified then, the thought of Louis in pain unbearable and he remembers the sudden urge he had, even then, to wrap Louis up in his arms and keep him safe and smiling forever.

The worst thing is Harry can't do anything now, anything at all, except wait, and that feeling of helplessness is a special kind of torture as he watches the medics carefully position Louis on the gurney.

Harry makes to follow but a stocky guard stops him, bending down to rest a heavy arm on Harry's shoulders, "They'll need all the space they could get in the vehicle. Also, he's unconscious, lad, he won't  
know if you are there or not. C'mon, we'll take another car to the hospital."

Harry knows that would be the correct thing to do, but he can't leave Louis. He is too weak to, and so he shakes his head, as he gets up on trembling legs, immediately wobbling on his probably broken ankle.

Niall comes up immediately to wrap his arms around Harry from behind, supporting him and Harry can hardly feel it. His legs are trembling and he can see that, but he can't feel it. It's all numb and frantic inside his head, mind a mesh of What's happening and LouisLouisLouis. It like there's a brand of fire around his wrists, making his blood burn as it rushes through his body and pounds thud, thud, thud in his heart. His eyes catch on the stretcher as it makes a slower than needed path to the ambulance, the crowd slowing them down.

He has to follow Louis, he has to be with him, there has been so blood and he can't leave him alone. He just can't. Some of his desperation must show on his face.

The guard's eyes soften as he looks at him, "You know, you look pretty bad too. You should go with the paramedics. Get your ankle checked."

As he makes his way to the ambulance, fast, so fast, weight supported by the guard because they can't keep Louis waiting, it turns out they end up getting there first. He gets in the van, ears ringing with panic and eyes fixed on Louis who's now being laid down on a white bunk bed, medics trying to desperately staunch the incessant bleeding, not too much but still steady enough to pose serious problems. The vehicle starts to move and the paramedics are talking about something that sounds a lot like 'intubation' and 'should do it now rather than the hospital, 'better chances of survival'.

Harry is keeping out of the way, his own chest feeling too tight, eyes dry and too wide as he gazes at Louis, body frozen in panic.

 

Having him in his sight has to suffice as he doesn't want to inhibit the medics. Someone is doing something to his ankle, he doesn't cares as to what, the pain almost non-existent as he watches them put a splint on Louis' broken leg and talk about broken ribs, head injury, possible internal bleeding and Harry is trembling, his blood like lava in his veins and vision too bright and too dark, both at the same time. His hands are shaking and his boy unconscious, probably in immense pain.

His wide eyes follow each and every activity in the van that happens on Louis' body. He wants to know everything even though the knowledge of exactly how much Louis is hurting is like a hot needle in his brain.

The shallow rise and fall of Louis' chest is the only thing that soothes him, is the only thing that stops him from doing something that seems entirely reasonable like throw himself out of the moving van into traffic, that would definitely hurt less than this. The rest of the boys are in a car behind them and the stadium is in utter chaos.

As Harry spares a last glance at the crying, hysterical fans, running behind the vehicle, some of them banging on the windows, he thinks, 'I am never doing this again. Not without holding Louis' hand.'

*******

The walls of the St. Claire hospital's third floor, right outside the ICU, are painted a cerulean blue, and there are seven cracks in the paint of the wall just in front of Harry, where he is sitting on a hard, plastic chair, waiting.

Seven cracks, Harry knows, because he has been obsessively counting and recounting them since he got there.

He has being counting one, two, three and some particular memory hits him like a punch to his chest, like salt over wound and it's funny how appropriate that cliche comparison is, how each minute not knowing feels exactly like salt rubbed on an open wound.

The timbre of the doctor's voice from before he went into surgery in an attempt to put Louis back together, is always at the back of his mind though, saying 'extreme head injury', saying 'three broken ribs, he isn't able to breathe properly, 'we're thankful they didn't pierce his lungs', saying 'broken leg might be serious. may require emergency fasciotomy for the acute compartment syndrome that is present', saying, 'maybe you should pray for him. if you believe in that kind of thing, that is'.

 

Four. Five. Six. Breathe.

And there's Louis in his mind now, their first official date, cheeks flushed as he holds Harry's hand too tight in two of his own and murmurs, eyelashes long and shadowy, as he looks down, "I think, I just feel like this, like us, could be, like, a forever kind of thing, Hazza." and him smiling in response, delighted at Louis fumbling with words for once and replying with,"I like, feel like that too, Louis. Like I could like like you forever." and Louis twisting his little finger in his curls and biting him on the jaw, "You are awfully rude, Harold. I don't even know why. But I like, love you. A lot."

And then they'd kissed and after Louis had bought them matching blankets, fake swooning into Harry's arms while whisper-yelling mockingly, "For whenever we part, my love, my sun, my Romeo." and then dissolving into helpless giggles. They've kept the blankets, his pink and Louis' blue, to match his eyes.

Seven. Breathe, can't forget to breathe. His chest is actually full, it feels like the pores in his body have closed up and he is trapped inside, trapped everywhere that is not Louis.

The hospital is a sickening, depressing place and there is sadness all around. It is clinging to the walls, wafting on the air that seems to smell of pain somehow. The tired figures of patients wheeled by, the frowns on the various medical personnel's foreheads and in the worried crinkles in the corner of their eyes.

The saddest thing is how they are so used to it, the clinical way they don't flinch at some of the worse things, so desensitized to gore, death and misery.

 

One. Two. Breathe.

The boys are around him, Liam and Niall bundled together on the seats to his left, Zayn pacing ceaselessly between them and the door at the end of the hall, where Louis is. He is stony-faced, his hands betray him though, shaking a little at the fingertips and Harry doesn't know how he is walking, how his knees doesn't give out beneath him with the sheer weight of existence.

Three. Four. Breathe.

Jay's on her way, the Tomlinson family catching the earliest flight possible. Harry's voice had broken when he'd called Jay, but he had not let anyone else do it. Jay deserved to hear it from him, not from twitter or something as such, and his own mum is also on the way. Anne had murmured soothingly at Harry, voice so familiar and comforting across the phone that his heart had leapt in his mouth hearing her, longing rising like bile in his throat.

Five. Six. Seven.

The first time he'd realized he was in love with Louis was during the second week of X-Factor, when he had crawled into Harry's bunk and stayed there, weaving tiny little messy braids in his curls and then, holding him tight as they slept.

He'd fallen in love with Louis when on the verge of a panic attack in the X factor toilets, he'd looked up to find blue eyes peering at him.

He'd fallen in love again and again and again, every time Louis had listened to each and every one of his ramblings, how he has supported each and every effort of Harry's, how he had loved Harry more that he ever could have imagined been loved. And now Harry has no idea if he'd ever get to whisper his love into that skin again and no. Just no. Not going there and not thinking that.

Breathe. Breathing is important, yes, breathe, as he intakes air with a shuddering, shallow gasp.

The feel of the ring pressing into his thigh from his pocket seem to mock him a little, and suddenly emboldened, Harry removes the ring and fits it around his left ring finger.

It fits snugly and looks right on his hand. He remembers the day when Louis did it, actually proposed to Harry. They were in Australia at the time and had spent the entire day on a relatively private beach, away from the fans and the cameras.

Louis had been trying to teach Harry to surf, but Harry'd kept wobbling and falling over. Finally, Louis had given up with his efforts and dunked Harry into the water, and as the salt stung his eyes, he'd clung onto Louis waist and pulled him down with him.

He'd spat water out of his mouth, and yelled, "If I go down then so do you, Louis Tomlinson. Neither death nor an ocean full of salty water can pull us apart."

Louis had stilled a little then, his eyes fixed on a point above Harry's curls and pink creeping in his cheeks as he'd murmured, "Till death do us apart, innit?"

Harry hadn't caught on then and hollered, "Not even then, Louis, not even then. Are you even listening to me?", and then promptly had bent down to lick at Louis' neck teasingly, nuzzle into the warmth homeliness of his skin.

The proposal that night had taken him by fair surprise, all things considered.

Louis had cooked dinner, or attempted to, it had been slightly burnt chicken tikka masala in the end.

Louis had looked sad then, almost kind of teary, as if getting the food right had been some Supreme Mission and he'd failed himself terribly. Harry had taken one look at his downcast face and flew into a flurry of motion, mmm-ing and aah-ing as he sampled some of the sauce and pronouncing it too good to be true,"You're the next Master Chef, Louis. Mmm, Gordon Ramsay would be proud."

Louis had gripped Harry's hand in a tight vice in response, tight in a way that made the breath hitch in Harry's throat and had said, no context whatsoever, "Marry me, Harry?"

Harry had stopped chewing and turned to stare at Louis, mouth a little open.

Louis' skin was flushed, and as Harry turned around to face him, he slapped a hand to his forehead and muttered,"Shit, I forgot." and then had gracefully dropped down on one knee, Harry leaning back against the kitchen counter and Louis on one knee in front of him, a hand digging in his back pocket to pull out a sparkly pink velvet box.

Harry'd chuckled delightedly at the colour, as Louis pulled out a ring from the box. Catching Harry's hand in his own, he'd gazed up with too wide, sincere blue eyes and said,"Hazza, Harry Styles, my boy, I have been in love with you since I first saw you. I love you so much, Haz, and I can't believe that I get to wake up next to you every morning. That I get to be the world's luckiest person to get to do all of this with you. To kiss you and hold you, to make love with you, to sing with you. I really, really want it to be you and me forever. Forever, Harry, so come on baby, be with me, so happily. Marry me, Harry Styles?"

Louis was panting by the end of it, each breath a little strangled as if he genuinely believed that Harry would turn him down.

Harry, for his part, couldn't believe it, he was so happy and the anguish on Louis' face made him want to jump on him, kiss it off his lips furiously. So he did exactly that, and as they collapsed together in a pile of limbs, Louis'd yelled, "Styles, you graceful gazelle of my heart. Is this a yes then? Will you really marry me?"

Harry had straddled Louis' thighs and rested a hand on his stomach, his beautiful, tan tummy exposed where the t-shirt had rucked up and said,"Yes. A hundred times yes. Of course, I'd marry you, Louis."

They hadn't spoken much after that, Harry had kissed Louis messily and dirtily, then proceeded to haul him up into his arms, standing up.

He'd rested Louis' bum against the kitchen counter, his legs tight against Harry waist, dick tenting his soft, loose pyjamas in an obscene way that made Harry's mouth water slightly. Louis'd pulled away a little and pinched Harry's bum,"Wear your ring first, heathen. You can finger me then."

The visual had set Harry's blood racing to his groin, and he'd impatiently extricated his hand from the back of Louis trackies, waggling it in front of his face, with an impatient, "Put it on then, so I can put it in" and then chuckled madly, overcome with his own hilarity.

Louis had huffed then, caught Harry's yeti hands in one of his own, and slid the ring home,"My fiance is a child. A complete and utter toddler."

Harry'd had quietened by then, gaze resting on the broad platinum band inset with diamonds, lots of them, small ones on the circumference and a large one in the centre.

It looked so good and felt so right, Harry'd rested the same hand gently on Louis' cheek,"Thank you, Lou. You make me insanely happy and I love you very, very much. So much. The ring's perfect and so are you."

The atmosphere had become gentle then, as Louis breathed, "You too, love. You too."

 

Harry rotates his ankles a little, the twinge of intense pain shooting up in response exactly what he wants.

It has been 2 hours and 24 minutes since they'd been operating on Louis, and as Harry circles his little finger on the platinum ring, he also remembers the sex that evening, the way Louis had squirmed so much and rocked himself on Harry's be-ringed finger, the expression on his face as he'd panted,"More, more, more."

It hurts too much to remember that, and he hates that it hurts, he hates that memories that were always joy, joy, joy to him, now almost makes his want to tear his hair out, peel his skin from his bones to quench the pain settled inside them.

 

Harry doesn't lifts his gaze from where it is stuck on, the subtle cracks in the wall seem to center him. He wonders how the walls of the hospital don't collapse from the amount of grief they're holding, how the foundations don't collapse in despair at the amount of sheer pain above them.

 

2 hrs, 26 minutes now. The clock right above the cracks seem to mocking him, and he doesn't know how to wait, he doesn't know how to stay still when he has no idea if Louis will be alright again.

The doctor, sod his name, has said that they'd be lucky to get him back, to please keep expectations low, that Louis might even lose his memory if complications arise.

Harry is afraid, of Louis not waking up at all, of Louis waking up and not recognizing them, of Louis in pain and of Louis losing himself somewhere in the depths of his own mind so completely that he stops being Louis.

Zayn's feet are tap, tap, tapping on the floor, as he walks, and suddenly, Harry wants him to stop, just stop, "Would you stop it? Would you just stop pacing around?"

He screams the last part out, loud voice seeming to shock himself as much as the other boys, so he buries his face in his hands after that, whispering, strangled and muffled, "Just stop."

Zayn stands still for a moment and then comes forward in a quick move, kneeling next to Harry and wrapping his arms around him, "He is ours, too. He is ours, too. We know how you feel, Hazza. He is ours, too."

Liam and Niall also leans over and wrap themselves around Harry and Zayn, in the tightest group hug known to man.

It is wet and noisy, they're all crying, Harry is at the center, and he feels surrounded by warmth and thinks maybe he is not so alone anymore. The boys cling to each other desperately and tightly, each of them knowing instinctively that something is missing, that there is a Louis shaped hole amongst them.

Harry clings back to them, finally letting the tears leak out of his eyes and it has been 2 hrs and 38 mins since Louis has been in surgery.

They hold each other tight and wait, Harry at the core of it and the clock ticks on.

After 4 hours and 21 mins, each one more torturous and precise, the doctor comes out of the surgery, the door whooshing close behind him over a flurry of activity. His expression is set in a frown, and Harry's heart leaps in his throat at that, skin becoming clammy. Niall slips his hand in Harry's hand and holds on, touch trying to be comforting but a little too tight and painful for that.

Zayn had already leapt up to talk to the doctor, movements jerky and fast as he stands up, almost in the man's face.

Harry's brain is all static right now, with the anticipation, the fear, and he finds himself squeezing Niall's hand right back, nails digging into his skin and his eyes fixed on the doctors countenance as he begins to speak.

His ears are so focused on catching the news, he hears the words 'out of danger' and 'stable condition' and he stops listening; his world explodes in one big canvas of relief and almost earth shattering happiness. Louis will live, he will survive, he will open his eyes again and that's enough for now. These are Harry's thought at the moment, for the sight of those closed eyelids only a few hours back had shaken him to the core.

He goes to hug Zayn, but the frown on his face pulls him back and so he asks, "What's wrong?"

The other boys are looking worried too and it seems as if in his relief Harry has missed something crucial.

Zayn says, long eyelashes flickering as he gazes down for a moment,"The doctor said that his head injuries might have caused him to lose his memory. He might not..remember us. Or you."

Harry has not succeeded in forgetting this, but it has slipped to the back of his mind in the past few hours. He immediately sobers up and says, voice slow in a new way, in a sad way, "I am just glad that he is alright. Everything else shall work out somehow. Can we go see him now?"

 

He addresses this to the doctor, who was still standing at the side, to which the man replied with, "He's in medically induced coma for the moment. Should wake up in a few hours, eight to ten at most. You can go see him though. We're shifting him to a private, general ward as I speak."

Harry needs to see Louis, needs to touch his skin for himself and ascertain that he is indeed alright, touch his lips to the pulse of Louis' throat and feel it throb. But first things first, he thanks the doctor, profusely and sincerely, doctors are great people, you know.

A nurse leads them to a another door somewhere, which opens in to a somewhat more private corridor and stops in front of a glass door.

She smiles kindly at them, and then gesture them inside.

Louis is lying on a bed, in a blue hospital gown that sags over his collarbones noticeably and his body is connected to various beeping machines.

He has always been tiny, but in that moment he seems mortally small and so, so fragile, that Harry's eyes well up with tears at the sight of his boy.  
His face is pale, as they move closer, dusty eyelashes cast down on pale cheekbones.

Harry loves him so much, and in this moment he looks so far away, so unlike the Louis that Harry has loved for ages. His leg is in a cast and his chest is taped up tight, as the bandages peeking out of his hospital gown suggest.

As Harry moves closer, the scent of chemicals is almost overwhelming. Louis' head is also wrapped in tight sterile bandages and the vision  
he presents makes Harry's stomach ache a little.

Harry finally reaches Louis' side and slowly reaches a hand to gently touch his cheek, smooth a careful thumb at the outline where the bandages covering his forehead give to smooth tan skin. He reaches by  
his side, finds his hand and tangles his fingers with Louis', the feel of at least that familiar and comforting to him. He is so relieved at that touch, even though the fingers are lax in his grasp.

The boys are around him too, Zayn burying his face somewhere in Liam's armpit at the sight of Louis.  
Niall is right behind Harry though, looking at Louis and gently straightening his gown, too afraid to touch in fear of hurting. Liam takes Louis' other hand, and just holds on to it.

The rise and fall of Louis' chest is steady and slow, he has an oxygen mask attached that helps the process and Harry thinks that all this equipment is so scary somehow, how it underlines the fragility of humanity and the immediacy of mortality.

Louis' hair has been shorn off at the right side, and the effect is nice, he thinks Louis would like it.  
Very skater boy.

Harry stays by Louis' side continuously after that, even when the other boys go to address the fans gathered outside the hospital.

The fans have absolutely swarmed the area surrounding the hospital, or so Harry'd heard. The surprising thing was none of them were doing their usual screaming routine, they were unnaturally silent waiting for news about the fate of Louis.

For once, One Direction fans have managed to surprise them, and Harry is proud. He would tweet about it except he can't even fathom leaving Louis' side or letting go of his hand.

The worm of discomfort and fear has grown to epic proportions in his mind, the thought that what if he doesn't remembers me, further talks with the doctor has revealed that the possibility of him remembering everything was 70 percent, and the odds were nothing to be trifled with.

Jay has reached the hospital some two hours back, the girls accompanying her and Harry had to let go of Louis' hand. The girls don't know about their relationship, and he doesn't want to further confuse or shock them, the sight of their brother in this condition had already done that enough.

So Harry twines his own fingers together and sit by Louis' side silently.

The hours go by, and Louis should be waking up any second now, so the doctor orders them to surround him only by familiar faces, people he has known all his life, for he should remain calm when he wakes up, in case of memory loss.

So, Jay hugs Harry and then takes his place by the bedside. Harry stands still for the moment and then goes to the far wall of the room to stand, leaning against it. The other boys are outside, will probably watch through the glass walls, and only Louis' family is around him.

Harry's twists his ring around his finger, ankle hurting a little as he stands there, biting his lip in worry. He almost feels like throwing up, but he can't leave. Not until Louis wakes up.

It is only after a few minutes of waiting that Louis' eyes flutter open, the first flash of blue appearing and Harry can't help staring at him, relief and a little bit of fear coursing through him, a litany of 'what ifs what ifs' pounding in his mind.

 

Jay immediately bends over Louis, kissing his forehead and telling him, "You scared us, boobear. How do you feel?" and Louis looks a little confused, admittedly so, as his plethora of sisters descend on him, so many girls and way too many tears. There's loads of wet kisses and even wetter words, and Louis looks happy to see them, returning their hugs and smiling wide crinkly smiles.

Jay shoos them away, her own voice shaky and eyes teary, and Louis is looking around now, eyes seeking something. Harry wants to melt into the wall behind him, wants to disappear before giving Louis the chance to look right through him, to look him in the eye and ask 'Who are you?'. Louis' eyes meet Harry's then, and his heart starts going into overdrive again, the room is, for once, silent around them as everyone's watching with bated breath, and Harry would laugh at the ridiculousness of it all except he's afraid he'll start crying if he as much as opens his mouth.

Louis blinks, once, and then tilts his head to the side, wincing a little at the unexpected pain in his head, and says, voice low but still carrying easily over the distance, "What are you doing all the way over there, H? Come here and kiss me already."

Harry does laugh then, the sound a little hysterical but more relieved than anything, and crosses the room in two wide strides. He stands in front of Louis, reaching out to cup his face gently in both of his hands, and then gently brings his lips to Louis' lips in the most delicate, fragile kiss of all time, smelling in the scent of him, relearning the curve of his jaw with his fingers and the taste of him on his tongue.

Louis exhales into his mouth, and Harry realises that the reason the kiss is so wet is because he, himself, is crying.

He pulls back a little, face wet and red, and says, "The next time you decide to fall down, make sure you take me with you, yeah? I missed you so much, Lou, it was horrible."

Louis makes a noise then, something between a laugh and a sob, brings up his own hand to rest his thumb against Harry's bottom lip, hard enough to feel his teeth inside, and says, "I am sorry, Haz, so sorry" and Harry tries to shush him then, but he continues, "The moment when I slipped and was falling, the only thing I could think about was 'This is going to destroy Harry' and I would take it all back if I could. You have to believe that."

Harry shakes his head stubbornly in response, catches Louis' hand with his own, and says,"It's not your fault, it's not anyone's fault. I am just so, so happy that you are okay. So happy, Louis and now, everything will get better."

Louis gives a watery smile in response to that, holding on desperately to Harry's hand, and Lottie clears her throat behind them and Harry thinks, 'oh'.

Before either of them could do anything or say anything, she flings himself over Louis, carefully though, and says, "I knew it. It's just like you keep secrets from us. I am so happy for you though but I swear to god if you weren't in a hospital right now, I'd punch you so hard."

Louis fake winces at that, and Lottie immediately pulls off. She turns on Harry next, actually does punch him on the arm and then gives him a side hug, while the twins fuss over Louis now, cooing over his curiously shorn hair and asking if they could, later, write on his plaster. Daisy exclaims something about pink glitter pens and Louis looks happily resigned to the fact that his leg will be converted into pink mesh of glitter. Harry thinks maybe he'd join in, glitter being nothing to look down on.

The twins chatter on to Louis, and Jay smiles fondly on as they continue to tut and fuss over him. She has left the younger twins back home with her husband, and as she fiddles with the bedsheets, Lottie turns back to Louis and asks, "So Eleanor was single the whole time yeah?"

Louis nods yes, Harry gravitating back to his side and they both are immediately surprised to notice the speculative gleam in her eyes at that. Harry's eyes widen a little and no, he definitely didn't need to know that.

Nor did Louis apparently as he groans, "Where are my boys though? Where is One Direction? "

As if right on cue, the nurse comes to usher the family back to the corridor and then, the boys are entering and it's like boot camp all over again.

Niall is the first one to enter, and he leaps to Louis' side, looking like he wants to crush him to his side, but doesn't know how to touch without hurting, he settles for a gentle hand on his arm, "You scared the shit out of us, Lou. How you feeling?"

Louis' smile is blinding in response, and he goes to pull Niall in for a tentative hug, tanned hands soothing on milky white arms and Niall tears up then. He pulls back, and messily wipes his eyes with his sleeve while Zayn takes his place to hug Louis and kiss him on the cheek, both of them whispering to each other until Zayn bops Louis' nose and makes way for Liam.

Liam has been crying the whole time, since he entered the room, and now he gingerly paws at Louis' face, tears streaming copiously down his face. Louis scrunches his nose adorably at that, and then says, voice soft, "It's over, Li. I am fine. Come here, bro!" and then they collapse together and Liam buries his face in Louis' neck saying, "I love you so much, Tommo, don't you ever do that again, you idiot."

Louis' face is red now, teary and wet, as he gazes up at his boys, and says, voice struggling to be his normal level of cheeky, "I fully plan to lead a stable life now, so un-adventurous and benign I'll give old ladies a run for their money. Maybe I'll run an old ladies knitting club huh? Knit willie sleeves for my boy Harry. The warmest dick in all of England, courtesy of one Louis Tomlinson."

Zayn rolls his eyes at that, goes to swat Louis' head but ending up rubbing his fingers through the feathery hair and says, "No one wants to hear about Harry's dick, Louis, no matter how much you want to talk about it, bro. It's not that great."

Louis pouts at that, and Harry notices he looks worn around the edges, like he could sleep for another twelve hours straight. Louis yawns then, and they all sit together, just existing in each other's atmosphere, relief etched into each of their faces.

 

Zayn and Liam keep close to Louis, sitting off in chairs by the side of his bed and Niall fusses over him, runs to do his bidding, adjust his pillows and his cast leg. Harry, for the first time in what feels like eternity but is probably only the last fourteen hours or so, feels like maybe, everything will be fine now and monsters will not jump from behind corners.

They form a little cocoon, the boys of One Direction, each one as close to Louis as possible without being overbearing. Harry rests his head on the bed by the side of Louis ribs, feels his fingers carding through the air and thinks 'Yes, all is well' and murmurs, 'I love you' and somehow manages to fall asleep in the incredibly uncomfortable position.

 

Louis looks on with love shining in his eyes, and whispers, 'Right back at you, Curly.'

When the nurse peeks her head in after sometime, come to shoo away the guests from her patient, she finds all of them asleep, Liam and Zayn slumped into each other, Niall on the ground with his head on Liam's knee, Harry's curls visible from somewhere in the asleep Louis' armpit and she winces mentally at his abject posture. She thinks 'Maybe I'd wait a little before clearing them out' and closes the door on them, heart warmed and a smile on her face

**One month later**

The sunlight is dappled and bright where it is streaming in to the kitchen, and Harry whistles under his breath as he expertly makes eggs benedict and tea. He is only in his pants, and usually Louis will tut at him and tell him to get his naked arse and bits away from the stove, but he is still asleep upstairs. And Harry has plans that involve him staying that way. These plans might also involve blowjobs and breakfast in bed. He pours the sauce over the eggs and muffin, then arranges it all on a tray, with the tea.

It has been a month since Louis' accident, and some mornings Harry stiil wakes up early to check that Louis is beside him in the bed.That he is alright. Sometimes, his breathing would speed up alarmingly, panic attack trying to claw out of him, and then only the feel of Louis' heartbeat in his chest and his soothing hands on Harry's back would calm him.

They have bought this new place in the countryside, a two-storey house with a garden out the back. It is calm and quiet, and Harry thinks he might quite like to start a family in someplace like this; the calming green of the trees, the anonymity of everything, the quiet and relaxed atmosphere being perfect for Harry. He thinks maybe he was a farmer in another life, that is good thing to imagine about.

One Direction are on a hiatus currently, until Louis recovers fully back which will take anything from around half a year to more.

The kettle puffs out cloudy steam, as he sets it back on the kitchen sideboard. Hauling the tray in his arms, and grabbing a box of cereal at the last moment, he knows Louis okay, he pads up the smooth wooden staircase, stumbling a little at the last step and steadying himself with a hand to the banister. Won't do to have him fall down, Louis had not talked to him for two days after he saw the video of him jumping after Louis during that awful, awful day. Harry'd cried finally and Louis had made him promise, very gravely, to never pull a stunt like that again and then kissed him all over his wet, mushy face.

The platinum ring gleams white on his finger, as he pushes a hand against a large, wooden door that leads into the bedroom, breakfast tray balanced on his other hand.

Sunlight has lit up the entire room in shades of gold, making the place feel soft, glowing and a lot like home.

Louis hair shines like molten gold from where it is splayed out on his pillow, eyelashes and skin each vying for the most breathtaking thing he's seen this morning.

Harry sets the tray down on the bedside table, and plops on his knees on the bed. The sheets are soft against his hands as he pulls them slowly down over Louis' body, trailing his fingers sinuously over his chest and stomach.

Louis snuffles a little but doesn't wake up, subconsciously spreading his legs a little though.

The hair on Louis' chest moves a little from his breath as Harry slowly lowers his mouth to lick slowly at his tattoos there. The skin tastes tangy and smells clean, and Harry can feel his toes curling with how much he wants this boy, wants to fuck him, mess him up and put him all together again, wants to trace his skin all over and be the one who gets to kiss him forever. He grazes his teeth against the 'it is what it is' tattoo, one hand moving down to splay over Louis' stomach possessively.

Harry laves his tongue low, and even lower, sucking one sensitive nipple in his mouth, grazing it slightly with his teeth. Louis squirms a little then, and Harry moves his hand to take ahold of his dick through his pyjamas, the feel of it fat and heavy in his palm. He grips it firmly, and lowers his head to Louis' stomach, the feel of it soft and warm beneath his cheek.

Harry had always loved the little pouch he has there, which Louis' develops whenever he is not working out, loves to suck on it and bite it, loves to leave it all red and marked in the aftermath.

He turns to roughly tongue at the bellybutton, dipping it in and mouthing sloppily all over. His hand is moving up and down on Louis' dick, fingers quick and clever, a little rougher on the down-stroke, since he knows he likes that.

A high moan rumbles in Louis' throat at that, and Harry grins, presses a kiss to his stomach, and increases the speed of his strokes, other hand resting flush on Louis' hips, dipping beneath the elastic of the sweats to press his fingers tight to the skin there.

Louis' arches a little, hips thrusting upwards into Harry's hand, finally waking up, murmuring, "H, get my kit off. Want too feel you, ah!"

Harry digs his chin obnoxiously in his tummy, dimpling up when Louis' hands go to pull him back by his hair. He drawls up at Louis, "Bossy, huh? And here I was about to feed you breakfast. Hmm, maybe I should eat it myself?"

While saying this, he crawls down to Louis' crotch level and noses along at the press of hardness through the soft cotton.

Louis' grips his wrist tightly where it is pressed along his hip, and thrusts up, trying to angle himself nearer to Harry's mouth, "Would you give yourself a blowjob too, then? Is this the latest breakthrough in yoga adventures of Harry Styles?"

Harry pushes down the sweats a little, to reveal Louis' bare cock glistening hard in the soft morning light, and the sheer domesticity of this makes something light flutter in his chest, makes his cock harder.

He licks a stripe up the wet skin on Louis' cock, where the head is already peeking from the foreskin, the sight of it jutting out making Harry salivate a little. He is not ashamed of how much he likes sex, how much he like the weight and fullness of Louis' cock in his mouth.

Louis likes to tease him about it a little, saying, "I think the entire world is aware of how much you like to suck dick, Haz. The way you just pop bananas in your mouth, all in, no take-backs, is kind of a big giveaway, love."

Harry suckles the tip into his mouth, pulling it in and Louis emits a sharp gasp at it, voice throaty and high, sliding his hand to the nape of Harry's neck, urging him on.

Harry disentangles his hand from Louis, and slides both of them under him to palm at his ass, sliding his fingertips in the crack and squeezing tightly, then pushing him up to propel his cock properly in his mouth. His mouth is hot and wet, tight in the best way, lips glistening around the dick, and Louis groans weakly at the sight, tangles his hands in Harry's hair desperately.

Harry has his hands full of Louis' ass, and without moving them, he gently slides in the V of his legs, careful to not jostle his plastered leg while doing so and lies down there, just gazing up at Louis for a moment.

Louis' biceps are straining from where his hands are still grasping Harry's curls, veins popping out in sharp relief, and his bottom lip is caught between his lip, eyes gone dark with this intensity and want that Harry knows is for him and him alone.

He removes his hands, and grabs Louis' sweats to pull them completely down, and Louis' arches his bum up to allow it, the swell of it round and delicious in the sunlight, completely obscene somehow.

Harry carefully pulls them off, then tickles Louis' toes a little while removing his socks, the sound of his squeaky giggle in response making Harry grin wider. He sits back on his haunches to watch Louis sit up and remove his own threadbare Ramones t-shirt, hair ruffled and messed-up afterwards.

Louis looks at him from beneath his eyelashes, and Harry moves then, will always move closer when looked at like that with those beckoning eyes. He is still mindful, though, of the broken leg and is as gentle as possible while clambering up Louis' body, fitting his huge palms along his ribs.

Something impatient and fretful flashes on Louis' face then, and is gone in an instant when he scritches his nail on Harry's back, hard and long, causing him to moan loudly before merging his mouth hotly to Louis'.

Their position is awkward, since Harry is unwilling to put any weight on Louis, and so is balanced on his calves as he leans in to catch Louis' mouth with his own, sucking his bottom lip and gently teething at it, causing Louis to gasp a little and dig his nails sharper into Harry's back.

Louis spreads his legs wider, ignoring the slight twinge of sharp pain accompanying the rapid motion, but something must show on his face because Harry pulls away instantly with an, "Are you okay? That hurt, didn't it?"  
He doesn't ever want to cause Louis pain, he know that it is inevitable that they both would cause pain to each other, they had in the past and they probably would too in the future, but Harry never wants to do it intentionally, obviously never wants to cause Louis actual physical pain.

So he leans away, and tenderly cups Louis' face in his hands, tucking his fingers behind Louis' ears.

For some reason, Louis is pouting at him and he can't have that now, can he?

So, he smushes Louis face with his hands, which makes his lips purse out over-exaggeratedly and then kisses them gently and chastely, "You want me call up the physio? Or get a pain killer? Does it hurts still?"

Louis positively snarls at that, expression changing instantly to one of anger and frustration, pulling away from Harry and crossing his arms on his chest, "Would you stop babying me, for god's sake? You haven't touched me properly since the accident. I am not going to crumble like a fragile doll, Harry, do you get that?"

Harry is a little stunned at that, the sight of those folded arms and glittering, blue eyes not adhering to his plan of 'blowjobs and breakfast' this morning, and okay, maybe he has been a little cautiously overprotective towards Louis, but he thought he had kept it under control. This urge he had to sometimes encase Louis in his arms, and twine their bodies together until no one could hurt Louis without hurting him, was according to Harry considerably unexpressed. He knew Louis hated to be babied, and so he tried his hardest not to, but it could only go so far.

Harry wants to roll his eyes at Louis' sulky face, but doesn't, it wouldn't do enrage his grumpy fiance more than necessary. He traces a finger up Louis' jaw, watches him tense in reaction. That just wouldn't do, so he taps a finger at Louis' chin and tilts his face up with it,

 

"You don't want me to take care of you? Baby you? Is that it?" he asks, breath puffing on Louis' lips with each word.

Louis nods jerkily, something vulnerable in his expression, eyes stubbornly downcast once again.

Harry buries his face in Louis' neck, nosing at it and says, lips trailing skin, "But you are, Louis Tomlinson. You are my baby. My to-be-husband, the father of my future kids, the fucking love of my life. Of course, I am going to be gentle with you. I love you, Lou. I don't ever want you hurt again."

Louis sighs, something akin to frustration coloring the sound, "What if I just want you to touch me properly? Fuck me properly without flinching everytime you jostle my leg while doing so?"

Harry sighs too, rests his forehead against Louis' and says, "I don't want to hurt you, just because I am selfish and can't get enough of your body."

Louis raises his eyelashes then, gazing at Harry's eyes for a silent moment and then asks, very quietly, "You don't think it's ugly then? I am so broken, I couldn't blame you if you did find me unattractive, to be honest." He chuckles at the end, the sound unsure and entirely not like Louis.

Harry is frozen, his face close to Louis' and he just stares. He has honestly never been so blindsided in his life, to think that Louis would consider himself inadequate.

Harry blinks at that, and then throws his arms around Louis in the tightest hug possible with their bodies entangled in this way, "You are honestly so stupid. You could look like Hagrid from Harry Potter and I'll still love you. Nothing could ever stop me loving you, you know that, Louis. Idiot!"

He rubs his nose behind Louis' ear, in a gesture which is meant to be reassuring and comforting, and Louis giggles a littles then, voice muffled by Harry shoulder as he says, "Do you have secret thing for Hagrid, Haz? Should I be worried about you leaving me? Is it all that hair that does it for you?"

Harry's chin is resting on Louis' shoulder now, gaze caught on the deep dimples at the small of his back and says, laughing a little, "Nah, it's the way he says 'Yer a wizard, Harry'. Magic turns me on."

He could feel Louis' hand sliding low on his back, as he replies, "You are so weird, Haz. I love you a lot."

Harry feels himself melting more into Louis' body, hunching a little to fit properly, bare shoulders muscly and massive as he whispers back, "Same, Lou."

Louis hums a little, happy and content, then kisses Harry's neck, "Can we have breakfast now? You can give me a blowjob after."

Harry scrambles off the bed then, awkwardly getting off Louis' lap with a laughingly barked, "Yes, sir!"

But Louis eyes darken a little at that, and he goes to pull Harry back while muttering, "Sod breakfast. Come here, Harry."

Harry does. Come, that is.

Rest assured that the breakfast is cold by the time they're done.

**Six months later**

The floor of the car is hard against Harry knees, as he bents his curly head lower to take more of Louis' cock in his mouth, wrists crossed behind his back so the only thing supporting him is Louis' lap and his strong, thick thighs.

He hums around the cock, throat bobbing obscenely as he swallows, the feel of Louis' expensive trousers that are brushing his neck kind of stupidly arousing.

They are in the back of a limo, night draped silently over their car which is driving them back home from the premiere of James Corden's new film. Louis had teased him horrendously throughout the evening, little lingering touches at his neck or hips, tight momentary grips of his wrist, brushing his body too close to Harry's 'accidentally'. Harry's blood had been racing so fast at the end of the night, mouth dry with sheer want, that he'd dragged Louis to their car, told their driver to roll up the partition, Beyonce style, and got right down to business. Pun totally intended.

Now they are racing, London streetlights flashing by as they go in the middle of the night back to their hotel, and he has got a mouth full of Louis' dick and Louis whimpering and squirming under his mouth, so retrospectively life is great for Harry Styles.

Louis' hair is all messed up and feathery, he is gripping the edges of their leather car seat and trying to arch right off it, thrusting right in Harry's mouth.

Harry pulls off then, his chest feeling tight with this bizarre kind of happiness and arousal, "You can't move, Lou, have to stay still for me, yeah?"

Louis' face is flushed, eyelashes long as he nods yes frantically, throat fluttering as he swallows nervously, hands flailing a little as he goes to pull Harry in but then remembers what he's just been told and so pulls back.

Harry considers him seriously for a moment with dark eyes and cherry red wet lips, then holds out his wrists in front of him waiting. Louis immediately gets it. He clasps his fingers around one each of Harry's bony wrists, nice and tight and a little painful. Harry's hand fists in response, and Louis just holds on. Harry whimpers a little, the feeling of Louis' hands holding his wrists tight sending his nerve endings sparking and quenching his need to be close, close, closer a little.

He rests his head on Louis' thigh for a moment, content and fulfilled by the contact, before coming alive again and vehemently tonguing the slit in the head of his penis. Louis tastes salty and tangy, skin warm beneath his mouth and he slides his lip lower to take more. Always more.

Louis' has thrown back his head, turning it towards the car-seat a little to try to smother the whimpers escaping from his lips. Harry sucks harder, staring up at him and jerks his wrist a little where Louis is holding on to them, jostling him ahead and forcing him to look down into wide, green eyes and red lips stretched wide around his dick. Louis can't help moaning a little at the vision, he'd always said that Harry is his only aphrodisiac, and the sound is so intimate, low and high and raspy.

Harry wants to record it and listen to it forever, on repeat, the noises Louis makes for him and him alone. He slurps as he bends to take more of it in, all of it in, dick sliding against his throat sinuously.

Louis is keeping true to his word, body held still and willing under his ministrations and gaze fixed on Harry's face, blue eyes wide and a little disbelieving even after all this time, that Harry is his. His face blanks out a little though, eyes going half-lidded in pleasure as Harry starts his earnest bobbing around the dick, moving up and down slickly and expertly, setting a fast and brutal rhythm.

Louis grip tightens more around his wrists in response, nail digging in the skin there and Harry's eyes roll back a little with how much he likes the feeling. He hums around the cock in his mouth, then pulls off to mouth sloppily over the tight balls below. Louis' trousers are still on, only his zip open to allow access to his cock and the sight is mouth-wateringly sensual, like he wants this so much that things like clothes on, clothes off stop mattering all together.

The car bumps a little, and Louis' hard dick pokes his cheek unceremoniously, causing Harry to bury a giggle into his thigh.

Louis slides his hands from his wrist to his fingers, entangling them in a strong grip.

Harry misses that tight feeling against his wrists, it makes him feel anchored and needed, maybe he'd get Louis to tie him up when they get home. He slides his mouth over Louis' dick, getting it more sloppy and wet, pacing his bobs and enjoy the moans emanating above him. His feet are getting cramped, squeezing in the back of cars not as easy as Beyonce might it make out to be, but he hardly notices it, working enthusiastically up and down, sweaty curls getting in his face a little.

Louis gives a strangled cry then, body arching as he is about to come. Harry chooses to pull back this time, and just watch as shudders wrack through Louis' body, his come spilling all over the dark fabric of his trousers, staining the black with contrasting ropes of white.

He shivers a little as he comes down back to himself, eyes drooping in pleasure, then puts his hand on Harry's shoulders to pull him up on his lap, wanting to take care of his boy too. Harry goes easily, he'd already pushed his trousers down to his ankles and as he hefts himself up, he kicks them off completely.

Louis' trousers are cool beneath his bum, the come kind of sticky and wet.. He immediately turns to kiss Louis, tongue licking out to sweep over his bottom lip, then going closer to fuse their mouths together properly. Harry kisses like he has all the time in the world, slow and languorous, and by the time he's done, Louis is getting hard again.

Harry buries his face in his neck, nibbling on the skin a little as Louis arches invitingly,"Wanna ride you, want to feel you inside me, want you Lou."

Louis gasps out, "We're in a car, Haz. What if someone sees? Also the partition is, ah, not sound-proof, you know. I'd rather not give Alberto a free show."

Harry pouts a little at that, gazing pointedly at his own hard, painfully red prick, so Louis rolls his eyes and says, "Baby, I'll take care of you when we get home. I'll also take care of you now. I know you're dying to be tied up. We'll do it, Haz. Just let me touch you now. Let me give you what you need now."

Harry gives in, and but not without surging back up to kiss him huffily, nipping and biting like an angry, ruffled kitten until Louis grips his dick, stroking it. Then he melts into the kisses, trailing hands all over Louis' body.

Harry is a possessive lover, he likes to leave marks all over Louis' body, even though no one in the public would believe it was him who caused them.. Marks on bodies had to be the only kind of claim he could have in public, when Louis was off pretending with Calder or when he was on one of his own faux dates. That was why tattoos are so attractive to them as a couple, their love for each other is etched into their skins, literally.

It has been better for the past half year though, the time after Louis' accident immediately had been quiet. But after Louis started to get better, they had made all public appearances together, he'd refused to actively hide anymore. In the public eye, the Larry Stylinson friendship was fully back on with them tweeting and instagramming about each other again. Their contract with Modest! was due to be up in a couple of weeks now, finally, and plans to come out were already in motion.

It really does get better.

Harry hands go in Louis' hair, tangling it and messing it up more, while Louis works his fist furiously over his cock, jerking it with long strokes. He rest his head on Harry's shoulder, biting down on the edge of his jaw as he thumbs the head of his cock roughly.

Harry is quiet, heart thumping and fingers all feeling light and floaty, panting wetly and urging Louis on with quiet entreaties of 'Yes, more, love you, Louis, more, yes'.

When he comes, wads of white come streaking Louis' black trousers, he groans and buries his face in Louis' neck, biting hard as his body shakes from the intensity of his orgasm, chest heaving and curls falling over his face.. After a while of catching their breath, Harry pulls up his own trousers and tilts his head back on the plush car seat, half-lidded and content, watching the sky float outside the window, hand, still curled up in Louis.

People go on and on about love and happiness, like they're interchangeable, synonymous with one another. Harry knows they're not, the entire episode of Louis almost dying has taught him as much and he understands now, how rare this is, this feeling of love, happiness and belonging that radiates from them and connects them to each other. Louis could make him smile with one look, could make his mouth dry with one touch, and Harry realizes how incredibly rare it is to find that one person who embodies both love and happiness for him.

He is never taking anything for granted again, and also things that seemed monumentally difficult before, fail to even make his eyebrows rise now. There are worse things in life, and maybe the sight of Louis drenched in blood will haunt him forever and he will always wake up shaking a little, but he is braver now in other things and so is Louis. They want to share that bravery, they want to share the love and happiness they've found in each other with the world.

Louis thoughts seem to be on the same wavelength as him, once again, Zayn thinks they're really creepy like that and horror films should be made about 'The Mirrors That Are Harry And Louis, Cause Of The Apocalypse Due To Their Twin Flame, Earth Shattering Love', he'd actually sent a group email one drunken night linking to various tumblr master posts of the ilk; Louis traces a fingertip on Harry's knuckles and says, "Next month's gonna be sick, official coming out, Haz. Our tumblr army will be ecstatic, at least, even if no one else is."

Harry turns his head and raises both their tangled hands to tap his chin, as Louis looks fondly on, "Maybe, but we will be free. Finally. The rest of the world can prefer to listen to Robin Thicke's new album over ours, I wouldn't care."

Louis laughs blithely, "You would, you know. You will tweet passive aggressively about how songs that objectify women should be shunned, complete with an angry cat emoji."

"I don't think there is an angry cat emoji, Lou."

 

Louis rolls his eyes and says, words fast and dead serious, "Maybe we could patent it and call it the Harry Styles loves pussy emoji. But then the cat would have to be eating a banana, if we're naming it after you. Oh, with a rainbow headscarf around its ears and maybe that dangly earring that you once wore. What say? We're rich, Haz, do you think we can do that?"

Harry can't help giggling at that, he bats his massive hands at Louis face to get him to shut up where they immediately gets licked, "You are the kitten, Louis, always getting your tongue out."

Louis clambers up on Harry's lap at that, resting the back of his head on the glass pane of the car window, making a exaggerated kitten-ish face complete with a meow and a weakly attempted claws gesture, and Harry is laughing so hard, his cheeks are hurting and it hits him, he loves this boy, his Louis, so, so much.

"I think we can do whatever we want. Whenever I am with you, I feel, you know, invincible and like, nothing matters more than making you smile and, you make me more myself. I love you so much, Haz."

Harry thinks he's venturing really close to out-right crying category and also, how he kind of insanely loves the way they can go from hot, hot skin on skin sex to softly whispered confessions of love so easily.

He replies back, "I love you too", - and at that moment there's a rap on the partition that's dividing them from Alberto and the chauffeur.

Louis leans over to press the button that makes the partition roll down, and Alberto's voice rings out, "It pains me to interrupt you lads, but there seems to be paps waiting at your home. I told the driver to drive around a little while you figure out what to do."

Harry mind goes blank for a moment, the hide-can't be seen together-hide reflex ingrained over the years of closeting threatening to kick in, but Louis calms him with a hand on his neck, addresses, "We're friends in the public eye. Friends stay overnight all the time, it shouldn't be a issue."

Alberto leans over the partition a little, gaze intent on their face and the says, "You might want to get out of those if you want to face the paps," he jerks his neck towards Louis' dirty trousers, the white seeming to stand out more under the increased scrutiny.

Louis looks down and groans a little, "Can't we pretend it's dry shampoo or summat? Or maybe Harry and me were having milkshake experiments in the car?"

Harry cackles at that, and Alberto groans in response, albeit a bit fondly and says, "We can stop the car and I can run and buy new pants for Mr. Milkshake experiments from the nearby mall. You sure you don't just want to duck out somewhere else?"

Louis primly shakes his head, "We're done hiding." and throws a disarmingly shy smile towards Harry.

So, Alberto fetches new grey jeggings in record time, he's an ace bodyguard like that, and Louis quickly shimmies in them, bare bum sadly disappearing in grey tight cloth as Harry watches on. He rolls his eyes as he picks up after Louis, folding up his discarded pants and holding on to them absentmindedly, as the car slides to a halt in front of the hotel they're staying at, temporarily since their actual house is under renovation for the moment.

Harry thinks it actually goes well, him and Louis making a surprisingly quick way to the front door, only a couple of paps actually present there. But the articles that turn up online later say otherwise:

 

WHAT A RIDE! HARRY STYLES COME OUT OF CAR HOLDING BANDMATE TOMLINSON CLOTHES  
(pics!!!)  
25th September 2015, 08:24, -Natasha Higgs

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson seemed to have quite an adventurous, sweat-inducing midnight ride, ahem, of the car kind sadly! Our broken hearts!

When they departed from the movie premiere of James Corden new movie, as you can see from the pics, Tommo was still clad and looked dashing in these charcoal trousers. But when they arrived at their destination after the event, Louis was spotted wearing a different pair of trousers, now grey in colour, and was ducking behind the wide, manly shoulders of one Harry Styles, as they came out of the car. Styles, to the surprise of many, was seen clutching dark trousers that looked quite a lot like those that Tomlinson was wearing earlier.

One question is pounding in our heads: What (or who?) went down during that ride?

What's cooking in this romance? Err, we mean bromance.

Right, guys? Leave your comments below and tell us how much you love Larry Stylinson! Ta!

Their PR berates them, but Harry just shrugs it off, rationalizing that this is good press ahead of their planned coming out next month via video. Louis yells, from the bed as Harry paces by the window, voice carrying to the phone "No one is surprised, McGee. Me and Harry are visible from the moon. Drop it."

When they post their coming out video a month later, Louis is proven right, no one is surprised. The world doesn't explode and they are able to hold hands in public - all is good finally.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Tumblr: wearestarshine.tumblr.com


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